NorthStar Chronicles Oct. 2015 Oct. 2015 | Page 14

Swish, swish, my broom says to me, coughing up dirt from the wood deck. I nod in agreement, knowing that the dirt will need to be swept away once more by the day’s end. I look up at the blue sky, squinting against the fiery sun’s brilliance, wishing that rain would come and turn all this dust to mud. I close my eyes, imagining a world where I am free, where I am flying through blue skies and over mountain ranges, the wind and sun at my back. Suddenly, I feel a real wind gusts randomly out of the still air, and I am thrown off balance. My eyes fly open, done imagining, as I fall off the porch to the ground a few feet below. I land, bounce, roll, and then I lie silent under the porch. I sigh as my bones protest, curious about the sudden wind. I hear a crack of thunder, and lightning flashes in my peripheral vision.